I want to buy you flowers
by Diam
Summary: AyaKen in a way... Aya always wondered what was this attraction. Now he knew, he wanted to buy him flowers, no more, no less.


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Salut!

Beware, it means nothing, but fluffo-sap and a twisted Aya...

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**I want to buy you flowers **

**inspiré par Emilie Simon**

**avec la participation docile de Weiss Kreuz**

**démoli et piétiné par mes soins**

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I want to buy you flowers.

It was the first and only thought that crossed my mind this morning when I put my hand on the doorknob of our shop. I have never had such an idea before.

It was just this morning that these words struck me, like the lightning. I couldn't think about anything else. It became my absolute purpose, a precious aim to reach.

It seems to me that only flowers can manage to express that nasty feeling of mine that is lurking in the back of my soul, because flowers are worth anything. They can easily accompany a birth or a burial, a laugh or a cry. And with you, they are just magnificent.

Tough, it's such a shame you're a boy. Indeed, you're a guy. You're not supposed to be receiving flowers, moreover, offered by my rotten person. Do you find offending that I want to buy you flowers? I can assure you I got a bloody headache when I realized that I wouldn't give a damn for the world, except for you. Of course, there's still her, her presence is so overwhelming that sometimes I tend to only notice her absence. But she remains the first reason for I'm alive. I long believed that no one could ever take me from her but since you're there, everything was turned upside down. You have this kind of power.

You mustn't receive flowers, you should give them. But as I know you won't be offering them to me, then don't. Just don't. Don't offer them to anyone. You'd say it's selfish.

Surely it is, and selfishness is the easiest explanation.

But...

But when you are not a girl, because it's a fact, you are definitely not a girl. That flat stomach, those lithe legs, slander arms, broad shoulders belong without doubt to a man. Face, voice, power, wrath, no woman could ever posses such features.

But your smile... You have got a girlish smile. I am ashamed to confess that, but this is one of your characteristic I found very lovable.   
It has a power which destroyed lots of girl's hearts, as well as mine.

So, when you're no girl, nobody buys you flowers. Indeed, I think nobody did ever buy you flowers. They never dared, never had enough imagination...

I am going to be your first. The first to buy you flowers.

I couldn't steal your first kiss, hold you in a tight embrace for the first time, get you first in my bed, hear your first confessions of love or whispers of lust.

But I will see a smile that nobody ever witnessed. A smile of surprise and delight, I can already see a glint in your eyes, a tacit question on your face. And it will belong to me, only me. Selfish again you say?

Yeah, selfishness remains the easiest and best explanation.

I want to buy you flowers. Definitely. Flowers. No chocolate, no stupid item, just flowers.

But I do hesitate. Which one?

Roses? No, too common, and too much like me, they are bitter and cold. No.

Petunias? No way, the name is ridiculous. You would just laugh at me.

Orchids? Perhaps... they're beautiful but too snobbish, too aristocratic to be combined with your simple and altruistic soul.  
Pansies? No, they're too fragile. I know you are too, but if you knew that I think of you in this way, you would be hurt.

Daisies? No, too simple in their own way. Your character is so much complex, they would not fit your mind.

Then, which one? Flowers are worth anything, but will I ever find the species that doesn't clash with you?

Daffodils. Yes! Beautiful, delighted daffodils! Just like your smile...

In haste, I open the door of our shop. Colours and scents attack my senses, and against these foes, my sword is useless. My twisted mind and harsh words become like the harmless fangs of a puppy against the sweet flavours that threaten and torture me day after day.

Flowers, beautiful and cruel flowers, have always been cold and contemptuous. I'm not worth their presence, and they know it. I always touch them by the very end of my fingers, with a feared respect and hided disgust.

Is it the same for you?

And now, I must confess I wonder if you will like my flowers. Whether these beautiful beasts act the same way with you, then you won't be happy. There will be no smile, no surprise, no delight, just hate and disgust.

I couldn't bear this hatred coming from you. I do accept them from everyone else; I even feel them towards myself, but not from you.

I'm talking nonsense.

Again my rotten spirit, obsessed with revenge, is playing its dirty tricks on the poor freedom that still possess my heart.

Because you are so sweet. Yeah, sweet and caring. The complete opposite of my stupid person.

This is this kind side I hated with determination when I first met you, until I saw during our missions, your own hate, wrath, and bitterness. I understood at that time that your kindness was the most beautiful thing for it was deeply intertwined with hypocrisy. It was surely the first fact that draws me to you, as for my loneliness.

I'm alone. I suppose it is a reason why flowers are wicked with me. I don't receive any warmth from the other humans, rather I don't accept it. I'm so cold that I frighten the beautiful flowers.

...I'm pathetic, aren't I?

I hate what that bloody smile of yours made me become. I often say to our targets, I'm no demon, no god of death, just an assassin. But I tend to forget I'm still a human.

A weak, poor, vulnerable, miserable, useless, worthless human.  
You're now too close of the corpse of my heart. If you were to leave my life, that would surely put out of the pitiful misery of my heart.

So tell me that you're the one, that I don't have to worry anymore, that you won't leave or die. During missions, I would not have to look after you anymore.

And then, I would be relieved, and I would buy you flowers.

And then, I could close my eyes, sleep, and finally buy you flowers.

I would buy you flowers, like no girl did before, and we would be happy.

Aware of my complete stupidity, a smile plastered in my mind, I delicately pick up a bunch of daffodils. Nine beautiful, young, yellow daffodils, nine for every time I saved your life, watched your back in the dark and took care of the dangers.

The door opens. I hear your voice yelling me a good day and a beautiful life.

I slowly put down the daffodils one by one in their original mud.

Only eight of these flowers are still in my pale hand.

I know you're smiling. I can practically feel it in the air. But I also know this is not your girlish smile.

The one you're wearing is naive and distant and steamy.

And it isn't for me. So only seven daffodils remain.

You always were sweet, to anyone, in fact. You even cared about ridiculous flowers, saying with passion they could feel us.

Rubbish! ...six left

You should only be sweet with me, kind with others, but sweet with me, only. Selfish, you must think.

Yes. Yes. The better explanation.

Five left.

Perhaps I was in love. Perhaps you managed to melt the heart of this ice bitch-prince I am.

But even that powerful feeling, love as the rabble calls it, is not sufficient. My sword isn't useless against love. That insignificant bond between a family, lovers, spouses, never stopped my arm, never escaped my blade.

By the false voice you speak with, these eyes full of pleasure, and that horrible smile, I can tell you found another girl.

Four left.

A girl you kissed.

A girl you held.

Perhaps a girl whom you confessed your love, and whispered words of lust.

Perhaps a girl you shagged, no, so sorry, made love (how I hate this word!) to.

Three left, their stems are crushed by my hand, and their head are down. You'd say they're crying. Bullshit, I'd reply.

Forget the flowers, my love. Because the flowers never last forever. They withered, they decay and they vanish.

Two left, I will soon be finished with you.

But, do buy flowers to your girl.

One, left, soon no more humanity.

And know they don't last forever.

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Anything? 


End file.
